


Damsel in Distress

by jaydick_love



Category: DCU
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SuperBat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydick_love/pseuds/jaydick_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A classic hypothermia story in where Bruce is injured and gets stuck somewhere very cold and needs Superman to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damsel in Distress

It had all been a blur. There were Darkseid’s minions everywhere, all disgustingly gross and ferocious. They reeked of odor and their appearances were just as foul as their scents. Batman had studiously ignored that as he flicked batarangs into vital organs and parried away along the snow and ice. There were so many and all the other League members were also fighting off the massive amount of monsters.

Before Batman knew it, the army of monsters he had been fighting had forced him into the entrance of a small cave. The horde of monsters seemed to double, and the lone Dark Knight was losing this battle. He was outnumbered, and the creatures kept on pressing in, and each one he took out, two took its place. What happened next was unavoidable.

A spear found its way through one of the weak points of his armor, sliding in between two plates on Batman’s right side. It jarred in deeply, forcing a pained gasp out of Batman, who stumbled backwards towards the cave.

Mistake.

The monsters began to crowd into the cave, saliva dripping out of their mouths, hungrily reaching for the prize to present to their master.

Fuck.

Batman stumbled back to the wall of the cave while fumbling through his belt. He threw a small explosive at the mouth of the cave, shielding himself with his cape as the bomb went off.

That was also a mistake. A necessary one. But still a horrible mistake.

The bomb had sent the front lines of the beasts backwards, killing some of them. But it also made the little cave rumble, shake, and hiss. Moments later, the loose stones at the entrance of the cave fell down, tons of ice and snow blocking the entrance. It created an effective barrier, keeping the beasts out of the cave, but also trapping Batman inside it.

Fuck.

Bruce slid down against the chilly walls, one hand holding his side, which still had the spear inside it. He debated if he should take it out or not. If he didn’t it meant he wouldn’t bleed out too quickly. God, it hurt though. Bruce left it alone, knowing that leaving it in would be his best bet despite how much he wanted to rip it out. His vision was already starting to fuzz around the edges, the pain in his side great enough that it hurt to move, hurt to even breathe.

Seconds after the explosion and the mouth of the cave was covered, the com link in his ear crackled with Superman’s voice.

“B, I really hope that you have a way of getting out of that cave.”

Skillfully keeping the pain out of his voice, he replied, “I’ll find a way.”

Worry filled Clark’s voice. “Batman, I don’t-” a strained grunt and the sounds of battle, “-see any way that you can get out.”

“I’ll try to find a way out. Stay focused on the fight.”

“B…”

“I said stay focused on the fight!” snapped Bruce. “I’ll try to find a way out.”

“I can get-” a huff and the sound of screams, “-you out. Easy.”

“That would be a waste of time to defeat Darkseid. Shut up and don’t worry about me. We’re talking about the stake of Earth right now.”

“Batman, I-”

“Batman out.” Bruce stopped the conversation with that. Now that he was no longer speaking to Clark, he could relax a bit, not hold up such a strenuous demeanor. The wound hurt, and Bruce hadn’t clarified that bit to Superman because if he had, then the alien would have gotten him out that instant. That would have left Darkseid a very nice opening for him to gain the upper hand in the fight. That could not happen.

Pushing away the nauseous pain, Batman scanned the cave with his eyes from where he sat. There weren’t any places in the tiny cave where he could set off an explosive safely. If he did, the whole thing would come crashing down on him. Bruce could try to chip and remove the rocks, ice, and snow at the entrance. But doing do would be damn near impossible with his injury. All that strenuous movement would make him bleed out before he would even move half of the rocks and ice. He had lied. There was no way he was going to get out without Superman’s help. Currently, the Kryptonian was fighting a very important battle. It would be a while before he would be able to help Bruce.

Batman’s suit was insulated, which helped him keep warm. When he was fighting, move about and creating body heat, it was easy to stay warm. Now that he was only sitting down, bleeding out in a freezing cold cave, he wasn’t warm at all. His suit had been built to withstand cold, but not below freezing temperatures. Within a couple minutes, Bruce was shivering and wrapping his cape around himself to try and stay warm.

If he didn’t die of his wound, he would die of hypothermia. If not, both.

Defeated, he lied down on his side with a wince, warm blood dripping over his cold armor mercilessly. If Kal didn’t send Darkseid back from where he came, Bruce would be a frozen, bloody corpse very soon.

He didn’t want to die. Not after he had finally found someone he could trust. Not after finally feeling happy for the first time in a long time. He didn’t want to leave Kal alone.

As the minutes ticked by, it seemed like that wouldn’t be the case. He felt himself grow colder, stiffer, and weaker. Death was inching its way to Bruce. He tried to stay awake despite his sleepy, hooded eyes.

Kal. Think of Kal.

It helped to think about his lover; it kept the pain at a more tolerable level and his eyes just a bit more awake.

Like what happened this morning, before this whole catastrophe. They had been at Clark’s apartment in Metropolis. In his room. On his bed, limbs tangled together. Bruce remembered the moment very well.

The heat. It had been everywhere. Leaving steamy trails along Bruce’s jaw and down his neck. Then warm hands sloppily lifting up the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his muddled head. Then that hot trail moving south, down and down. That skilled mouth left imprints of warmth down Bruce’s bare chest, down his abs, lighting up the vigilante with warmth. He felt so charged. So alive. More alive than ever. It felt so good, felt so so so good. Addicting. Was that how it felt like when Clark absorbed the sun’s rays? Healthy and warm and full?

Those swollen lips traveled up, slinking their way to Bruce’s collarbone and began to work on the sensitive skin there. A nip that turned into a harsh nick, pulling a strangled moan from Bruce. God, he was falling apart in Kal’s arms and kisses. Melting like chocolate on a hot day. Usually, he hated feeling this vulnerable, but with Kal, it was okay. It was okay to be open and exposed and let his steel walls fall down. It was okay to express emotions and neediness. It was okay because Clark would never hurt him. It was okay because with Clark, the happiness never ended. Everything with Clark was easy, natural, welcoming.

Bruce was attached to the alien. Addicted. He wanted those strong, warm arms around him, that hot breath tickling his ear as he whispered sickeningly sweet nonsense. If Bruce tried hard enough, he could feel phantom traces of Clark’s heavenly touch, could feel that steely frame holding him from behind. Could smell that sweet, musky scent that-

“Batman!”

Bruce hand’t realized that his eyes had closed, and they snapped open at the sound of his alter ego’s name. They struggled to adjust, expecting the icicled ceiling of the small cave he was trapped in, but instead, rich blue eyes with an equally handsome face stared him down worriedly.

“Superman?” Batman’s voice was scratchy and dry. Weak.

“You didn’t tell me you got stabbed!”

“No. I didn’t. And you know exactly why.” Batman tried to sit up, but he couldn’t find the correct muscles to make himself move. They were frozen cold, unwilling to obey his commands. He only managed to lift his neck and twitch his arms.

Kal muttered something in Kryptonian before scooping up the smaller man in his arms. Bruce immediately felt a bit better in his arms. A bit safer. Kal’s unnaturally warm body heat was also helping warm up the shivering cold vigilante, and he rested his head against the broad chest. Before he could stop it, Batman’s eyes were slipping shut again.

A gentle shake that felt more like an earthquake jostled Bruce’s eyes back open.

“Stay with me, Bats.”

Batman didn’t reply, not promising anything. He kept his head against Superman’s chest, huddled against him for warmth as the alien flew towards the Watchtower. Leslie would know how to fix Bruce up, how to make him whole and healthy again. She had to.

“Bruce!” This time the voice was more frantic, borderline panic. Another jostle. But the Dark Knight was already unconscious, and this time, he didn’t wake up when his name was yelled.

 

Superman had burst into the med bay of the Watchtower a long time ago. He had held his dying, bleeding, and scarily still lover, handing Batman over to the trusted Dr. Leslie Thompkins. He knew that Dr. Thompkins was a good doctor, great. One of the best. But it did little to assure him when he was kicked out of the operation room. So he stood there, outside the door, pacing back and forth, listening intently to Bruce’s slow heart beat. Occasionally, he used his x ray vision to peer through the walls, but he couldn’t look for long. Seeing Bruce so fragile and still frightened him more than Darkseid ever would. So he only used the x ray vision to make sure that Bruce was alive, and so far, the protector of Gotham was pulling through the operation.

It was a long, anxious four hours before the doors opened and an unconscious Bruce was wheeled on a cot towards his private room. Superman floated besides Dr. Thompkins as she wheeled the bed.

“How is he?” Kal asked.

Dr. Thompkins gave it to him straight, no bullshit, and no nonsense. She knew that Superman wanted all the information. “He took a bad hit. The spear slipped through two of his armor plates and went in about three inches deep. Nicked his pancreas, and he lost too much blood. I had to give him some transfusions. I won’t go into the long details about his pancreas other than it had been moderately damaged, because I fixed it up. He suffered from hypothermia, and I managed to get him to a stable body temperature. A couple frostbites, but no amputations. I also gave him enough medication that he won’t be awake for other twenty or so hours, and when he does wake up, he won’t be awake for long.” She glanced down at him, sighing. “Stubborn boy needs some sleep anyways.”

“He’ll be alright?”

“With time. A few months, depends on how he heals. But knowing Bruce, he’ll find something to speed up the process. He’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Leslie.”

They came up to Bruce’s room. Leslie scanned her hand, her eye, and entered in a complicated series of letters and numbers that was the code. Only a small handful knew the code to Bruce’s room: Leslie, Superman, Diana, and Bruce himself. Inside, Superman helped settle Bruce into his bed, gently placing the smaller man on the bed and tucking the covers up to his shoulders tightly. Leslie disappeared with the promise of checking up on Bruce when heroes stopped filling her med bay, leaving Kal alone with Bruce.

Kal took off his cape and draped in on a hook, then pulled up a chair besides Bruce. Gingerly, he took the IV free hand and held it, gazing down at his lover. Bruce was pale, paler than he usually was with dark blue shadows cast under his eyes. Bandages heavily covered his abdomen where he had been stabbed, a loose shirt covering those bandages. To the touch, Bruce’s body was still a bit colder than Kal found comforting. So he wandered around the Watchtower till he found an electric blanket and draped it over Bruce. After thirty minutes, Bruce’s body was a bit warmer, not so stark white.

As the long hours ticked by, Kal occasionally found himself threading a hair through Bruce’s hair worriedly. Even though he could hear Bruce’s heart beat, Clark felt for his pulse every now and then, needing to reassure himself that he wasn’t hallucinating. It was a long nineteen hours before Bruce foggily lifted his eyelids open, revealing hazy, gorgeous blue eyes.

Kal was immediately leaning over the bed, the hand that had been stroking Bruce’s hair moving down to softly cup the chiseled cheek. “Sleeping Beauty finally awakens.”

That familiar scowl was quick to take over Bruce’s face. “Original.” He grunted, blinking a few more weary times before attempting to sit up. Kal was quick to push Bruce back down onto the bed, which deepened the scowl.

“You know you should stay in bed.” Said Clark, throwing the Dark Knight a knowing look.

“I’ve been stabbed before. I can get up and move around if I want to.” Bruce began to move around again, but Clark’s hand was pinning him down to the bed, not letting him get up even a centimeter.

Kal gave him pleading, puppy eyes that held much of the worry he felt in the past hours. “Please rest Bruce.”

Bruce saw all the panic that had been in those eyes and something in him softened enough with that look that he relaxed and sighed grudgingly, almost childlike. “Fine.”

Clark removed his hand, but to his surprise, Bruce stopped him halfway, snatching up that large and warm hand in his own. Heartfelt, Superman twined his fingers in Bruce’s, murmuring half teasingly, “You’re such a softie.”

“Shut up. I’m not going to rest unless you do too.” Bruce was dead serious.

“I don’t need sleep as much as you, just some-”

Batman cut off Kal, finishing his sentence. “Yes, I know. You just need some sunlight. Bullshit. I know you need sleep. Now get over here before I change my mind.”

Before the injured man could change his mind, Kal took the offer eagerly, kicking off his shoes, floating over Bruce and under the covers by his lover. The alien cuddled against his lover, keeping their hands together. “You must be really drugged up to offer cuddling.”

“I thought I told you to shut up.” Bruce grumbled grumpily. Honestly though, he liked it when he cuddled with Kal. The elder was so warm and strong, making his touch irresistible. In his childhood, Bruce had obviously lacked touches. So now, they were as sweet as candy to him. So precious and cherished, especially since he didn’t accept touch much, thanks to his alter ego.

Surprisingly, Kal did stop talking. He just held Bruce close, chin rested on top of Bruce’s dark hair. Just holding him, reassuring himself that Bruce would be okay. And Bruce let him hold him, let the Kryptonian have some reassurance that Batman didn’t like to give. Eventually, the morphine and exhaustion won over Bruce’s tired eyes, and he fell asleep again. Clark didn’t let go. He kept holding Bruce close, protecting him from any nightmares with his touch. Perfectly content with the position.


End file.
